The first lioness, jaws parted in a final snarl, is being drawn inexorably into the crocodile’s maw. The second lioness strains beneath the crushing weight of the reptile’s tail, her claws digging furrows in the mud.
"Why isn’t one lioness enough for you?" Her voice trembles with indignation and fear, eyes fixed on the predator.
The crocodile turns a heavy, ancient gaze toward the pinned lioness. Her voice is deep and slow, words sliding out like the current itself.
"Mating season is coming," she rumbles, her jaw flexing as she swallows the last of the first lioness. "I need to build a fat reserve. Only then can I stand guard over my nest—night after night, rain or drought—until my children hatch."
the second lioness[/@ch_2].]
She listens, chest heaving. The knowledge that her fate serves a purpose greater than simple hunger brings a strange solace.
"At least… I will help protect something. Even if it’s not my own." Her voice is quiet, resignation and dignity mingling in the dusk.
The crocodile loosens her grip, her belly already heavy. The second lioness lifts her head, meeting the ancient predator’s eyes with a final, calm acceptance.
"Do what you must," she whispers, surrendering to the ritual of nature.
The crocodile disappears beneath the surface, her body laden with the sacrifices that will nourish her through the long, patient vigil ahead. In her wake, the river flows on—eternal, indifferent, and full of unseen stories.
